More on mornings

Sometimes we stop to smell the daisies

And I think that Therese had my idea of a perfect morning in mind when she commented on the last post:

My favourite mornings are still the ones where I've managed to get all the others out of the house, and have a quiet breakfast all by myself.
Yes, please! That's my cup of tea also. My perfect morning is a quiet one. And I will admit to being selfish here, and say that my perfect morning is one when I wake up to a house all to myself. (Do I love my husband and children any less? No.)
I like to read while I eat breakfast: magazines, novels, the school newsletter (which I sometimes read twice or three times, if nothing else is handy). I like to listen to the news a little bit. 

Mainly, I like a morning when I don't have to provide the will forces for myself and two others to leave the house at an appointed hour. In my pre-parenting life, I would always set my alarm for at least an hour  before I had to get up, to allow ample time to drift peacefully into consciousness, then leisurely eat and read, shower, and get out the door in a relaxed and put-together way.

This is Bonting (inspired by Shirley Hughes' book called 

The Big Alfie Out of Doors Storybook), who is an unshelled macadamia nut,

nestled in his woolie bed with a soft seashell and a silver acorn.

After I read The Seven O'Clock Bedtime a few years ago (highly recommended), I realized that I had an "extreme lark." You know, as in early bird? Only extremely early. Until very recently, I could count the number of times I have risen before Jonas on one hand. 

the quilt has finished borders!

it's ready to be sandwiched with the backing and the batting!

Jonas also has inherited an ability to spring into awakeness with alacrity that I completely lack (this comes from my other half). Like, hello world, I am awake, and why not start thinking, planning, being active, being hungry immediately? As in now. Sylvan and I tend to drift gently into wakefulness, with lots of cuddling. I would prefer not to deal with immediate demands upon me upon waking. I am slow to wake and slow to fall asleep.

a diorama of a Glass Frog,

the subject of Jonas's recent (and first)

research project.

it has a see-through belly, modelled here lovingly with beeswax.

Yes, so mornings are sometimes a difficult time for this princess. Once or twice I wished for a two-hour-a-day nanny who would brisk in, deal with everyone's morning demands, feed them, nag them into their chores and clothing, and present them to me for a kiss before taking them off to school. (Wait...was I wishing for a wife?)

Sharon hatched a tiny peep,

and presented it to the rest of the flock yesterday!

Sharon had been missing for a few weeks, and I suspected she might be

in a family way.

Happily, they are both snugly sleeping in the chicken house tonight.

But you know, it was weird to be up before Jonas this morning. It just felt wrong, somehow, to see his kitchen stool, his book, his red fleece, and not him sitting there with me. He tells me he will never wake up in the afternoon like my brother has been known to. 

We'll see.